Silent Explosions
by 80sarcades
Summary: A touching romance between a simple man and the plastic explosive that loved him. Written for the SSSW challenge.


_**Silent Explosions**_  
_**by 80sarcades**_

* * *

_Welcome! This story is for the Short-Story Speed Writing Challenge! Originally I rated this story as 'M' (Mature). However, due to suggestions by my kind reviewers, I changed the rating to 'T'. Fair warning: light sexual content towards the end of this tale; however, no indecent language._

_Posting at 2350. Still Sunday, so I made it!_

_Summary: Meet Daphne, a plastic explosive who wants nothing more than to blow something up! Then, she fell in love with a certain Hero…_

_Just for general information, a detonator is a small explosive charge used to set off a bigger one (C4, etc.) A blasting device, connected by wire to the detonator, is used to blow the charge._

_Thanks for reading!_

* * *

Some things happen before other things.

It's a natural rule of life: love, for example, doesn't happen until you meet someone. And if you want to blow up a bridge, you need explosives.

That's where I come in.

Officially I am known as Nobel's Explosive No. 808, or just Explosive 808. However, just between us I prefer to be known as Daphne. Now yes, I know: I shouldn't be able to 'talk', much less think. Then again, I know my ultimate purpose in life: to blow something up. This is more than I can say for some of the humans that created me!

My bigger 'brothers' - those bombs containing Trinitrotoluene (TNT), along with others - consider themselves to be the last word on explosions. By and large, that may be true. However, at times you're going to have to blow up something that can't be hit by a 'superior' bomb. In that case, it takes a plastic touch. Someone like me.

My only real worry was that I would be expended for training uses. Several of my nearby sisters, in fact, were taken from my lot for that very purpose. Somehow, they missed me. If there was ever a chance I could sigh I would have done it at that very moment! With that danger averted, I waited for my chance to go to war. Fortunately, I didn't have to wait for very long!

Eventually I was packaged up and placed aboard a plane for the trip to my ultimate destination. _Where will it be_? I wondered excitedly. _Somewhere in Occupied France? Perhaps I'll see the Middle East, or maybe even far-off Asia! _ Those final hopes were dashed when my metal case was suddenly thrust out of the airplane and into empty space. Oddly, I was a bit disappointed with the parachute drop; the trip to the ground was much too short. However, that changed when my container was finally opened. A face, reflected by the glow of a dim flashlight, peered inside...

...and instantly, I fell in love.

* * *

Now I know what you're thinking at this point: a plastic explosive shouldn't be able to love a human. However, have you ever had a crush on, much less loved, someone unobtainable? Love is love, no matter where you find it.

Soon enough, I was in my new 'home': a prisoner of war camp, of all things! Far from being cowed, the object of my desire - along with four other men - sabotaged the German war effort in any way they could. Which was just perfect for me; I was already anxious to do my own part!

To that end I was taken out of my case and placed on the corner of a well-used wooden table. I dreamily sighed as Andrew Carter, his face lit by a nearby lamp, smiled cheerfully at my round 'body'. Unlike the others, his boyish features were quite attractive to my invisible eyes. Moreover, there seemed to be a hidden energy beneath the surface; a power, almost, that could erupt at any moment given the right circumstances.

Someone much like me.

Of course the other men in the tunnel were just as attractive, if not alluring, in their own special ways. Kinch, as the others called him, was a pillar of strength. LeBeau, as well as Newkirk, had their own special talents and humor. Likewise, Colonel Hogan was appealing as well; his smile, as well as his mind, could twist your mind in more ways than one.

Then again, I shouldn't overstate myself: his self-assurance was marked by a cocky smugness that somehow put me off. Judging by the tunnels I resided in, his talents were more than deserved. However, I preferred something a bit more down to earth.

With a start, I snapped away from my idle thoughts just in time to hear Colonel Hogan outline a sabotage mission. Apparently the men were slated to use their new explosives to destroy a factory just outside of Hammelburg. Once done, the men broke apart: Kinch and the Colonel went to the radio room while Newkirk and LeBeau used a ladder to climb back into their barracks.

Meanwhile, Andrew Carter grinned childishly as he returned to the table. The reason for that soon became clear: his graceful hands picked me up and began to reform me into a new shape. Soon I would accomplish my primary function; even better, I could spend my remaining time in the company of a gorgeous man!

How could the night get any better than that?

* * *

If I had a voice, I'd feel like screaming.

To be placed on a shelf is bad enough. To be unable to do my duty is even worse. But to exist as a rabbit made out of plastic explosive...and be called Binky...is perhaps the worst indignity of all!

Of course I understand the need for a good luck charm. With all the work these men do, they certainly need it! But does it have to be me?

Day by day, I jealously watched as other, and lesser, explosives passed through Andrew's capable hands. Once done, they soon had their turn to do good while I continued to sit here...and sit here...and sit here. _When will it ever be my turn?_ I despaired.

_And really! If I am a bunny, at least he could have gotten both ears right! Even explosives have some dignity!_

Then again, there was the proverbial silver lining: I was able to watch the goings-on in the underground operation. What really piqued my interest, however, was when the men were alone in the tunnel network. Kinch, for example, listened to music from his radio. LeBeau talked to himself about cooking and Paris. Newkirk would, on occasion, read a letter from his sister out loud when he took a break from working on uniforms.

As for Colonel Hogan, he was the quietest of them all: on rare occasions he would come down to the tunnels to read a book. Never for very long, but he was alone. I supposed it was his way of coping with the pressures of his command. Either that or he really loved to read horrible western novels!

Andrew, meanwhile, passed his time by talking to his good luck charm. It was easy to lose myself in his voice when he described his family back home and of the friends he had in camp. At least I wasn't bored; indeed, despite my situation, it was almost exciting, even exhilarating. My love for him grew by leaps and bounds; at times, I wanted to throw myself off the shelf, take him in my arms, and passionately kiss him to no end.

Of course, I knew I couldn't do that; to him, I was just an inanimate object. Our time together would be fleeting before the war drove us apart forever. Still, an explosive can dream. Can't she?

For the moment, I took solace in observing and listening to Andrew. His eager words and joyful humor contrasted sharply with how seriously he took a 'job', as he called it; my sisters-in-explosions could attest to how thorough his work was. My only wish was that I could go where they were going!

Several weeks later, I would finally have my chance. An important munitions train was slated to be blown to smithereens. Unfortunately, a recent airdrop lacked the explosives needed to carry out the mission. Fortunately, Andrew was almost able to collect the needed materials for the job.

Almost.

If I had been able to cry, I would have done so when I saw my love's sorrowful face. With an inner strength I was proud of, he was able to face the hard truth that faced him concerning his good luck charm. With reassurances of support from the Colonel, as well as his friends, he was able to perform his distasteful task. As for myself, I was torn between sadness at the pain I had indirectly caused mixed in with the excitement of my next - and final - adventure.

At long last, I was going to war!

Fortunately for me, the Sergeant had had the forethought to wrap my rabbit 'body' in discarded explosive wrappers. Without that, the next step would have been difficult. I trembled with anticipation as Andrew's deceptively gentle hands firmly molded my plastic skin into the desired form. His soft touch, accompanied by a kind smile, was enough to let my mind drift serenely on a cloud of mindless pleasure.

At that moment I wished that things had worked out differently; that I was flesh and blood instead of a chemical composition. I would wrap my body around his and would never let go! However, such was not to be.

The next events passed all too quickly. I was carefully placed in a bag before being taken out of my temporary quarters and into enemy territory. Impatiently I waited my turn as a sister-at-arms, followed soon by another, was removed from the soft interior. Finally, Andrew's face – oddly cheerful, despite the circumstances – greeted me warmly as he lifted me out of the bag and into the moonlit night.

With care, he positioned my 'body' on one of the railroad ties. A smile, illuminated by the soft light, cast a warming glow on my 'heart' even as he proceeded to his next task. At that moment, his attention was suddenly diverted to a nearby figure. Newkirk, standing guard nearby, silently raised his right hand. The message he delivered with his fingers was clear enough.

_Ten minutes._

Strangely, despite my anticipation, my thoughts were mixed with sadness. Here I was, at the apex of my duty, and I had fallen in love with a man who never knew I existed; who I could love but not be loved in return. Who ever knew war could be so cruel? Yet I wouldn't have changed a thing.

Still, despite it all, it was easy to imagine that his smile was for me and me alone. I could see him fiddling with something, though the moonlight gave no discernible details. Just what was he up to?

Suddenly, and without warning, a sensation of utter pleasure threatened to overwhelm my already heightened senses. I silently screamed in undisguised desire as Andrew plunged his detonator into my plastic form. Despite the time, he was unhurried as he made things just right; even the silent hisses from his nearby teammates failed to move him from his spot.

Finally, he could delay no longer. I watched in lust-filled frustration as he turned away; in desperation, my voice cried out his name even though he couldn't hear me. Just then, as if in answer to my plaintive wails, he returned. Surprisingly, and to my great joy, he raised a hand to his lips before touching it to my longing body. His kind eyes affectionately looked at me for a long moment before a whispered 'goodbye' tore through the air between us.

And then, he was gone. The wires from my detonator snaked off into the unknown darkness of the forest. While it was the harbinger of my doom – without it, I couldn't explode – it was also the last connection to the man I loved. Perhaps, if fate was kind, we could meet again…

At that instant, I heard the nearby rail softly hum. This was the moment!

_Goodbye, my love…_

I shivered in delightful pleasure as the sound of a sharp whistle echoed throughout the nearby woods. The train, quite close now, sent vibrations through the wooden tie and into my detonator; the sensations that resulted tingled my nerves almost beyond the ability to think. Even so, a small corner of my mind wondered the obvious:

_What will it feel like when I go o—_

* * *

Andrew Carter silently watched the train approach.

For some reason, he felt odd; his usual excitement at waiting to blow something up was gone. Instead, it was replaced by a feeling of…

_Sadness? Regret?_

_Where did that come from? _

He shrugged the curious feelings away and concentrated on his single task. The train was almost where he wanted it; he waited until the locomotive and the first cars had passed over the planted explosives before making his move.

"Goodbye, Binky," his soft – yet profoundly sorrowful – voice whispered. Without a second thought he twisted the handle on the blasting machine.

A earsplitting roar tore throughout the night as the train went up in a cloud of bright light and flying debris. Even as he watched, his long-practiced hands automatically unscrewed the now-useless wires from the device he held before stowing the machine in a nearby bag. His eyes quickly glanced towards his grimly smiling bunkmates before looking back at the destruction he had caused.

Save for the locomotive, the munitions train was done for. A chain of secondary explosions began to sound off as the fire spread to undamaged boxcars. Ammunition, cooked off by the heat, sent their projectiles flying off into the dark night even as the team of men quickly started back to camp.

Despite his earlier feelings, Carter was pleased.

"Boy, Binky was something!" he exclaimed. "Did you see her when she went off? She did a lot better than those other two-"

"Carter, it's a bloody bomb!" Newkirk interrupted, his Cockney accent laced with exasperation. The English Corporal threw an annoyed glance at the American. "You've been spending a bit too much time down in the tunnel, mate," he observed. "You may be good at explosives, but you've got a lot to learn about women." He slapped his friend on the shoulder and grinned. "They're a bit different, you know."

The Sergeant shrugged. "Maybe," he allowed before lapsing into silence. Even so, he was unable to resist the small grin of satisfaction that tugged at his lips.

* * *

[fin/ende]

_A/N: There really was a Nobel's Explosive 808; it was used by Special Operations Executive (SOE) during World War 2. The package for it was small, so I had to make the plastic explosive a bit larger so I could make Binky. _

_In case you're wondering about the name 'Binky', I'll be honest...I have no idea where it came from. I was trying to think of a silly name you could give a good-luck charm; that one just seemed to fit. That particular rabbit was also mentioned (never appeared) in my story Hochstetter's Stalag: Butterfly Effect. When the Short-Story challenge was mentioned, that set me to thinking: what would the back story be on Binky the rabbit? And how crazy could I make it? Hence, this story._

_Thanks for reading!_


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